


Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, First of His Name, Destroyer of Afterglow!

by PandaPuff



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, First Time, Geraskier, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, They love each other and you can't change my mind, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaPuff/pseuds/PandaPuff
Summary: Jaskier knew that traveling around with an alpha was probably not the most intelligent idea, but the moment he'd spoken to the brooding, white-haired Witcher, he'd become scarily attached. Even after hearing all the tales of how Witchers had no feelings, the omega could tell that there was something...different about Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	1. Heat Works in Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this all happened because I was bored as fuck, and this happened. 
> 
> It's the first fic I've ever posted, all mistakes are mine, and I hope y'all enjoy!

Jaskier knew that traveling around with an alpha was probably not the most intelligent idea, but the moment he'd spoken to the brooding, white-haired Witcher, he'd become scarily attached. Even after hearing all the tales of how Witchers had no feelings, the omega could tell that there was something...different about Geralt. He could have easily run away from Jaskier, could have left him to his own devices and gone off on his grand adventures on his own, but instead, he made sure his horse, Roach, wouldn't walk too fast, so the bard wouldn't be left alone on the road.  
  
He'd traveled with Geralt for just under a year, save for the few times he'd excused himself when nature deemed it was time for his Heat. He was thankful it only hit four times a year, but even so, he always worried that when each Heat ended, he would return to find that his Witcher would be gone for good. That time was coming up, now, and possibly at the worst time imaginable. They were four days away from the nearest town, by Geralt's calculations, and the omega could already feel how his clothes were making his skin itch. He found himself walking closer to the Alpha over the last few days, soothed by the scent of leather, sandalwood, and freshly fallen rain.  
  
"You're absolutely certain that we're not closer to a town, Geralt? I hate to nag, but... I have certain things that need to be taken care of." Jaskier finally spoke after an uncharacteristically long bout of silence.  
  
Geralt let out a rumbling sigh, scenting easily enough that this wasn't a matter of Jaskier finding a bath or a feeling a little lonely. The bard was going into heat, clear as day, and hadn't thought it necessary to let Geralt know that his time was near when they'd set off into the woods to kill a wyvern. "If I put you on Roach, alone, you'll get lost or killed in the woods before you make it to town, even if you do make it there faster. We can't both ride on Roach AND carry the wyvern carcass." He pulled Roach to a halt, sparing a quick glance to the woods around them to make sure they were alone. "If you help me cut this thing up, we can both get on Roach and make better time. A day, maybe two." But, they were sure to lose at least half the coin for Geralt's kill, as he knew that townsfolk would use every part of the beast from its bones to its skin due to their misguided beliefs about its magical properties. He'd get more for the skin, skull, and bones, but all the rest left behind would be simply food for the crows.  
  
Jaskier shifted on his feet a pang of want sparking through him at the thought of being pressed up to the Alpha's back as they rode along on Roach. The poor horse, sweet as she was, already looked tired... "I'm sure any of those options would work just fine, but I'm not going to push her... Who knows, maybe a miracle will happen and we'll come across a little village within the next day or so..." He huffed softly and ran a hand through his perpetually, yet stylishly, messy mop of hair. "It's just... You know what's coming. And it honestly feels like it's coming on much more quickly than usual, so..." Jaskier trailed off, wanting very badly to just say something along the lines of '...so how about we help each other out. You use me for stress relief, I use you for Heat relief. it's really a win-win situation, Geralt!'.. But that would involve Geralt knowing that he wanted him. And that would cause a mess.  
  
Enough months on the road together and Geralt had determined just the right amount of human-safe potions and supplies he needed to bring along with him; it was relatively few, mainly for scrapes and minor battle wounds, a few antidotes for simpler poisons and discomforts from traveling, but hardly anything so specific as potions related to Jaskier's heat (and frankly, Geralt thought Jaskier would have the sense by now to invest in some, being on the road as often as he was). Anything he had on him now would kill Jaskier, designed for the Witcher, and anything meant for humans that he had would be essentially useless. "I've got some herbs you can chew on that might slow things down, or at least keep you distracted." Geralt hopped off of Roach and slid the wyvern's body off of her back, unwrapping it from the canvas tarp and wrinkling his nose at the smell of decomposition setting in. "Start looking through my pack while I cut this up. Green herb with purple tips on the leaves, chew on a few while you wait," Geralt ordered, brusquely, at least glad that the scent of rotting wyvern was taking his mind off of the pheromones Jaskier was already putting forth. He was used to being around a Jaskier that routinely smelled of lavish oils, of mead and wine and ale, and of sex, but /this/, this was something he'd not experienced up close, and it was becoming as distracting as it was frustrating. If he attacked the wyvern's corpse with more vigor than was strictly necessary, sleeves rolled up and a knife in hand, well, it was as good an outlet as any.  
  
"Right...right. Thank you, Geralt." The bard murmured, distracted for a moment as he watched the man moving. He nearly gagged as the wind shifted, blowing the scent of rotting Wyvern into his face. Well, that was effective. "Maybe we should bottle up that stench. Seems to be working as well as any herb." He joked as he moved over to Roach. He gave her an affectionate pat on the neck before moving back to rummage through the saddle bags. "Green herb with purple tips...green herb, purple tips..." He muttered as he sorted through, pulling Geralt's bag of herbs from the saddle bag. He frowned slightly as he looked through the various herbs, recognizing a few of them, others not so much. "Green herb...is that purple?" the bard asked, and would have approached Geralt, if the man hadn't been hacking away at the dead beast. "Looks purple enough to me." He stated as he plucked a few of the leaves off the stem and began chewing. "Ooh, minty..." Jaskier mused as he put the pouch back where it belonged.  
  
Gods above, the bard never did stop talking. Normally, up to his elbows in guts and assaulted by the scent of rot, it grated all the more on Geralt to have the added (constant) stimulus of Jaskier's chattering; now, by some grace of both of their hormones, it was easy enough to tune him out, to find himself almost reassured by the bard's clear presence around him. It wasn't overlong before Geralt had harvested what he could, having skinned the beast and taken what he'd needed. The bag he'd be tying onto Roach would be considerably smaller, and the poor mare wouldn't have quite such a time carrying all of them to town. Thankfully, there was a stream running alongside the road for Geralt to wash off his arms in; all the while, he could feel blue eyes following him, the constant chatter dulled ever so slightly as Jaskier chewed on what was essentially an herb used for making a relaxing, sweet tea (and given to children as a treat/distraction)- so far, it was more than doing its job, in Geralt's eyes.  
  
The herb made Jaskier's tongue tingle as he chewed it, and it did manage to soothe him, if only a little. As Geralt washed in the stream, he removed his cornflower blue doublet, folding the garment neatly before placing it in his rucksack, leaving him in the matching pants and a gossamer undershirt that really left nothing to the imagination. If he had been a woman, it would have been downright improper with how thin the fabric was. The breeze helped cool his skin, and he let out a pleased little sigh of relief. "I thank you, for your sacrifice... Once this...mess has passed, I'll make up the coin you lost by performing in the tavern. They should be more receptive, now that you've taken care of their winged pest." Jaskier's nose wrinkled at the sight of the decimated carcass, then turned to look at Geralt again, his eyes focusing, probably a little too intently, on how the leather on his thighs fit oh-so-very nicely.  
  
Geralt let out another sigh as he saw Jaskier already stripping out of his doublet. It was going to be a long, long ride to town... Geralt climbed back onto the road and fixed the bag of wyvern scraps onto Roach, before sliding into the saddle. "Up, Jaskier. You were the one complaining about not making good time. And hold on, I don't want to deal with you cracking your head open if you fall off while we're riding." Geralt reached his hand down, unable to notice the flush that was already creeping from Jaskier's neck to his chest, visible as anything through the thin, flowing material of his undershirt. With the bard looking and smelling as he did, at least there wouldn't be much explaining to do once they did reach town. But, Geralt thought, a frown pulling at his lips, it would mean that every Alpha with a functioning nose would likely be trying to get at Jaskier, whether the bard welcomed it or not. Fuck.  
  
"I was simply awaiting the offer of your assistance, darling Witcher." Jaskier quipped, a playful smile curling his lips as he quickly took Geralt's outreached hand and managed to seat himself /almost/ gracefully behind the Alpha. "I knew you cared. Not wanting me to crack open my skull... Such a sweet statement!" the bard teased as he settled in close, his arms managing to wrap mostly around Geralt's waist. It would have probably been more comfortable without the armor that dug into his skin, but Jaskier held back his complaints. He just needed to reach town before the worst of it hit... "I see now why you enjoy sitting up here. Lovely vantage point." The blue eyed man mused as he looked around, his arms tightening ever so slightly as he felt the Witcher urge Roach on.  
  
"Keep chewing your herbs, and maybe Roach and I won't throw you off," Geralt growled, without heat. With the armor, Geralt wasn't overly distracted by the firm grip around his waist, the heat of the afternoon enough that he wasn't aware of how warm Jaskier was; the scent of him up close, however, was overwhelming, and Geralt spurred Roach into a quick trot to try and keep the air flowing around them. Of course Jaskier would smell of spices and headiness, of summer and musk atop the crisp scent of soap that seemed to cling to him even after days on the road. They rode on, briskly, fighting the sunset- still, by the time the light was just starting to die, Geralt knew they were still a morning's ride from the nearest town. He recognized the small clearing the came to, the stream having continued in their direction and a decent perimeter around a location well-suited to making camp. Behind him, he could feel Jaskier getting restless. "We have to make camp, Jaskier. I'm not risking traveling at night, not in these woods. We'll be in town by noon tomorrow."  
  
"I am, I am." Jaskier laughed softly, the sound cut short by a shudder passing through his body as the studs on Geralt's armor rubbed over his practically exposed chest. He had to bite his tongue against the ridiculous little sound that wanted to bubble up in his throat. He managed to pull his torso back just enough to that wouldn't be an issue any longer, while managing to keep his grip on the Witcher in front of him. Jaskier chewed on the herb almost violently for a while, until the tingle on his tongue was no more, and he swallowed the abused pulp. Being this close to Geralt was...for lack of a better word...torture. How a man, surrounded by death and hatred, with the most sour attitude the bard had crossed in his short life, could smell /this/ fantastic... Jaskier would never know. Even with the faint scent of decay still lingering from when he butchered the wyvern, the omega was hopelessly intoxicated. It wasn't long before his arms started to tire, his grip loosening ever so slightly, though still secure, so his arms slid a bit lower. His fingers traced over the studs below his grip, mostly to keep himself distracted, and stayed surprisingly quiet throughout the trip. When Geralt pulled Roach to a halt, he looked around, sighing softly to himself as he noted how dark it was getting. "Right, right... I understand..." the bard murmured, and carefully slid himself from the mare's back, one of his hands landing on Geralt's thigh and gripping it as he stumbled a bit, unused to riding a horse for quite as long as he just had. "Ah, apologies. I seem to be a bit...weak." He forced a soft laugh and begged his legs to cooperate. A few moments later, he was able to finally release Geralt. It was then that he noticed that his pants felt...different. A hand reached back to examine the seat, and his eyes widened. How had he not realized he was slicking himself!? "Oh...oh gods..." He muttered, embarrassment causing the flush he already possessed to darken significantly.  
  
Unused to riding as Jaskier was, Geralt had planned on dismounting first and helping the other man down, so he didn't land flat on his face; instead, Jaskier slid off the moment they were stopped, almost sliding down his leg and clinging to it once he steadied himself. Even with that movement, now stopped, the very present scent of Jaskier's heat seemed to fill the air around them- he saw Jaskier's panic, but things together, and dismounted in such a way that carefully avoided the dampness on the saddle. In their time traveling together, both of them had cleaned worse off of the saddle and Geralt's armor, from blood to guts to swamp muck and mud. "It'll wash. Get Roach tied up while you get your balance, I'll go get firewood for the night." Geralt of Rivia was not known as a man or witcher of much tact, but he at least had the decency to give Jaskier a moment to straighten up and compose himself before ordering him around to set up camp. Jaskier set up more often than not, on evenings when Geralt was particularly battered; it was only fair that now, with Jaskier... Compromised, in such a way, that Geralt do his fair share. And, if it gave him a chance to get away from the scent that was so overwhelming, so heady, that he could practically taste it, that was an added bonus. Hopefully, by the time they set up camp, the air would be cool enough to dampen the scents and cool both of them down.  
  
"I'm so sorry...I didn't even feel it..." Jaskier breathed, embarrassment almost taking over the itching warmth that washed over his body. He nodded, nonetheless, at Geralt's instruction, and after giving his legs a moment to cooperate again he tied Roach to the tree Geralt had pointed out. He gave her an apologetic pat before grabbing his bag and lute. He was able to manage building a fire with the twigs and small sticks around the clearing while the other man was occupied in washing the saddle, so it would be ready when Geralt returned. His slick-soaked pants became an issue after a bit, causing him to huff and move over to the stream, down a ways from Geralt. "I'm going to..wash up a bit, so just... Stay up there, alright?" He called out, though his voice wasn't much louder than usual. He knew his partner's hearing was impeccable, so shouting wasn't needed. Immediately he worked the ties on his pants open and shimmied them down his hips, a small shudder working through him as a fresh wave of slick leaked from him. "Oh, have mercy on me, cruel gods..." Jaskier muttered, deciding to ignore it for the moment in favor of washing out his pants.  
  
While it seemed kindest to give Jaskier space and avoid acknowledging his current crisis, it was when Geralt returned to the site where Jaskier had lit the kindling when he realized that Jaskier had headed to the creek without a change of clothes. It would be his luck, to have the bard get hypothermic on a cool summer's night while also starting up his heat. Sighing, likely not for the last time, Geralt riffled through Jaskier's pack for a set of dry smallclothes and a dry blanket. He could have found the other man with his eyes closed, following the scent alone, even while he was half immersed in the cool stream. "Your things are on a branch," Geralt called out, tossing the clothes to avoid having to stomp to the creek's edge and disrupt whatever Jaskier was doing. Geralt's baser side was loath to walk away, but there was a fire to build up and bedrolls to be lain out. With Jaskier in heat, Geralt almost considered sleeping in his armor, just in case any non-humans (or humans) decided to pay them a visit in the night, but decided against it; a few hours likely wouldn't be the end of them, as little sleep as they were both likely to get, and any assailants would have to be very, very skilled to mark him even without his armor.  
  
After getting his pants rinsed out, Jaskier took the bar of lavender soap to his body. The cool stream was a blessing, and felt absolutely marvelous against his heated skin. His fingers lingered, possibly too long, against his rear though. The touch sent shivers up his spine, the slide of his digits giving just a hint of relief. That was, until he was interrupted by the gruff voice of his companion, hands jerking and soap flying into the water. He scrambled for it, and huffed out a sigh of relief when it was found caught amongst some stones. "R-right! Thank you, Geralt!" He called out after settling. He watched the man walk away, a quiet whimper bubbling up in his throat. "Gods be damned...!" Jaskier hissed to himself in frustration as he made quick work of finishing up. He used the blanket to dry himself before sliding into his smallclothes, the usually soft fabric feeling like thistles scraping his most sensitive skin. Now grumpy and frustrated, he grabbed his things and moved back to camp, the only thing on his body being smallclothes and the gossamer undershirt he had worn earlier.


	2. So this is....Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut that smuts all over the place. I have no shame.

The fire was crackling and steady by the time Geralt could hear Jaskier stomping back to the clearing, loud to him even over the hum of insects in the forest around them. It was as safe a spot as they were going to find to camp, which wasn't saying much given the state Jaskier was already approaching. Jaskier came over to sit by the fire, flushed and looking even more huffy than usual, and Geralt couldn't help but smirk a little. "Make sure you eat enough. It wouldn't do for that reputation you're trying to make for me, to come into town with an unconscious omega in heat slung over my back," he joked, gently. Even across the fire, Geralt could smell Jaskier's scent beneath the scent of cool stream water and lavender, and it was as enticing as the smell of a warm roast after weeks with dry rations. Geralt would half-consider taking a potion to dull his own senses, if he wasn't so worried about them being waylaid during the night.... "You did well, riding today. Maybe not used to such distances, but you've clearly had experience."  
  
"Oh, getting me to eat won't be a problem, I assure you." Jaskier quipped, his tone a touch sharper than usual. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he settled himself back away a bit from the fire, any closer causing him to get too warm. He used the blanket, folded up, as cushioning to attempt to make himself more comfortable as he pulled some dried meat from his bag, along with some stale bread. The omega did manage a laugh, though, at Geralt's last statement, unable to stop his response from falling out of him. "Well I can assure you, the experience I have does not come from riding horses." Jaskier flashed a grin, his flirtatious side coming out though really, he wasn't entirely aware. His gaze flicked over to Geralt for a moment, eyes wandering boldly over the Witcher's form as he sat there, seemingly a safe distance away. "Truth be told, there are things I much prefer riding, rather than horses. No offense meant to Roach, obviously..." The omega purred, shivering as his body responded to the simple stimulus of Geralt's gaze.  
  
A snappy, sharp-tongued Jaskier was one Geralt knew how to handle- a meal, a good fire, and some rest were usually enough to restore him to normalcy after a typical day of hard traveling. The unabashed flirtation, however... Well, it's not that Geralt wasn't unaccustomed to that either, having had to deal with the heat of Jaskier's gaze on nights they were at a tavern and the bard had a little too much to drink. Generally, Geralt would carry the man upstairs to bed and let him sleep off the alcohol, if he couldn't be quickly guided to one of the partners who he'd been flirting with over the course of the evening. Now, however, it was just them, and Jaskier's attention solely and piercingly on him where he sat across the fire. "I will not hesitate to dunk you in the stream, bard. I've got things to reduce my own scent, if you find yourself motivated to stay on guard and defend us for the night while I'm useless. Otherwise, I can't help." Geralt gave a shrug, trying to remain factual in his refusal- he knew that, while Jaskier certainly was being strongly motivated by his heat, it wasn't all that talking, and the witcher wasn't aiming to insult the man he so often relied on for assistance and medical care, along with the companionship he was loath to admit he rather enjoyed.  
  
Jaskier's eyes stayed trained on Geralt, seemingly unable to look away even as the bard began to gnaw on a strip of dried venison. "Well, I just 'dunked' myself and it was incredibly refreshing. And if you reduce your scent, how will the big bad uglies know that I, the sweet and delicious Omega, am protected by a big bad Witcher? I mean really." He retorted, shifting to rest back on one of his elbows as he continued eating his meager meal. To anyone else, he knew he must look like an absolute mess, dressed in a little bit of nothing, smallclothes already wet with slick that refused to stop leaking out of him. Jaskier shivered and bit back a moan as the breeze shifted, causing the lightweight fabric of his undershirt to shift against his oversensitive nipples. Tonight was going to be /absolute/ hell…  
  
Geralt set about cleaning the knife he'd used to carve up the wyvern, all the while trying to respectfully ignore Jaskier where he was shifting and groaning across the fire, still seeming to try and maintain some semblance of composure. Wood smoke, stream water, and lavender soap were all for naught as Jaskier's heat seemed to settle in, and not for the first time Geralt wondered if the best solution would be just to give something to Jaskier to render him unconscious. It might almost be easier to transport an unconscious bard than one dead-set in the middle of a heat, and safer to boot (if not all the more suspicious when he did make it to town). Jaskier let out a noise under his breath as he shifted where he lay, splayed out and heavens above, if Geralt couldn't see the heat rising off of his (rather exposed) skin. "Jaskier, I-" Geralt stopped himself, letting out a huff and shaking his head, turning his eyes intently on the knife he was cleaning and oiling down. /He/ was about ready to dunk himself, all too aware that the scents and sounds assaulting him were enough to break even a human Alpha, let alone one with enhanced senses.  
  
In the back of his mind, Jaskier wished he had just stayed in town those few days ago and let Geralt take care of the wyvern on his own. But then, how would he write more songs to immortalize the wonder of his darling Witcher's talents? It would be difficult to make it sound truthful if he didn't see for himself how the Alpha's body moved with powerful grace, dodging and striking, avoiding the creature's talons and gnashing jaws with measured movements of a practiced hunter. The way Geralt's body moved was beautiful, in a lethal, fascinating way, and--why the hell was thinking about Geralt killing the fucking wyvern making his body /ache/!? This time, Jaskier wasn't able to suppress the soft whimper that fell from his lips when he heard the witcher say his name, eyes blinking open though he couldn't remember closing them. He turned his head, lust-blown eyes focusing blearily on the man who was too damn far away. "Geralt...." The name rolled off his tongue as if he were calling a lover, his tone full of want as his Heat slammed into him gracelessly, the full force of his need dragging a sound akin to a sob from the bard's parted lips.  
  
Anyone else in their right mind would have seen, in that moment, a very frustrated, barely restrained witcher clenching the handle of a knife with force nearly enough to bend it out of shape, and likely would have (reasonably) tried to keep their distance. Instead, Jaskier was looking at him across the fire like he was... Well, like an omega looked at an alpha during a particularly intense heat. Geralt let out a small growl. "Jaskier, I don't. I don't want you to regret this and leave, as much as I don't want you to feel... Beholden. To me." Geralt wasn't an idiot, and as Jaskier's heat got worse, it was becoming that their options were rapidly narrowing down to the natural course of events, or unconsciousness for Jaskier. "I've got a potion that'll knock you out, if you want to wake up tomorrow in an inn and we can see if we can get you the help you need once we're in town. It's... It's your choice." It was testing every ounce of control Geralt had in him to remain still and calm, to block his senses and try and get as close to meditating while awake as he could muster; Jaskier, he could see, was in far less of a controlled state, which made something twist in his stomach for reasons unrelated to the waves of pheromones beckoning to him. Contrary to what he might outwardly show, Geralt did value the bard's (often annoying) company, and wanted to be able to look him in the eye once the other man's heat had passed.  
  
Jaskier's mind was becoming less and less stable as moments passed, but he really did try his best to listen. A frown creased his brow as his breath became shaky, bleary blue eyes focusing on Geralt as he tried to sit up, shuddering at the absolute /gush/ of slick that flowed from him. "G-geralt...you utter...imbecile..." He managed without any venom in his tone, though it really did take all of his effort not to sob and beg the mountain of a man to just /take/ him already. "I have been yours...since the day we met..." He finally admitted, pausing to try and catch his breath, which was difficult when all he wanted to do was moan. "In Heat...Out of Heat... I've never.... Never reacted to someone the way I am with you... Haven't bloody slept with anyone either, might I add... Not since we met." He managed a weak laugh. "Not even in Heat... Managed all on my own... brothel girls helped with toys made of polished wood and stone...Genius really." That was all he was able to get out before an intense wave of desperation crashed into him, almost knocking the air straight out of his lungs.  
  
If he had been more in his right mind, Jaskier would have most likely been smiling like an absolute idiot at the fact that /finally/, Geralt was being agreeable. The omega couldn't stop the eager whimper that left him as his Alpha knelt between his spread legs. "I..trust you, Geralt. Always have..." He breathed, arching up to try and get closer to the warmth of the Alpha's body. He huffed softly and raised his arms, thankful when his undershirt was removed. Immediately, one hand rested on Geralt's shoulder while the other slid up to the back of the Alpha's neck, dragging the larger man down with surprising strength to claim his lips in a hungry, desperate kiss. That simple connection caused his entire body to tremble, a whimper bubbling up in his throat. Jaskier's legs moved then, both hooking around Geralt's hips to tug the Alpha close, yet another gush of slick flowed from him with the action, rendering his smallclothes a complete disaster.  
  
"Geralt....Alpha...." He whimpered against his soon-to-be lover's lips as he settled there in the Alpha's lap. He eagerly pressed down, grinding his slick-soaked rear against Geralt's groin, moaning as he felt the hardness growing there. Desperate fingers moved, tugging at the Witcher's shirt, wanting it off, as his neck was assaulted so deliciously. "Geralt, please... Gods, I've dreamed..." The omega whimpered. Never before had he felt this desperate during a Heat. Before he'd met Geralt, his Heats had been fairly mild, compared to other omegas he'd met. But since that day, seeing the Witcher brooding in the corner... His entire world had changed. It didn't feel right, after that, to seek companionship of another, during his heat or otherwise. But now... Now he had Geralt, and the feeling of the man's hands on his bare flesh was almost enough to make him sob.  
  
Geralt broke away only long enough for Jaskier to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside (thankfully, not into the fire, as that would be his luck) before he went about attacking Jaskier's neck once more, tracing kisses and little nips against his collar, along his throat, bared so beautifully for him. The witcher couldn't help but let out a groan as Jaskier ground down against him, already indecently wet and hard against him. "Stand for me," Geralt ordered, gently, large hands helping the bard to shaky feet before peeling off the last of Jaskier's clothing, sparing a moment to dive in and pepper kisses against the other man's stomach, the jut of his hipbones where they were perfectly positioned in front of him. "You never said anything," Geralt breathed against Jaskier's stomach, his hands pulling the other man back to his lap; the bard's cock was flushed and ever-present, with Geralt practically on his knees, but the witcher had a feeling he'd be catching Jaskier and trying to keep him from falling if he got his mouth on the other man while he was standing.  
  
The bard so badly wanted to give back to Geralt just as he received, his hands moved along the scars -old and new- that adorned the magnificent Alpha's shoulders and chest. Lute calloused fingers traced along the raised flesh just to the right of Geralt's heart, and began to reach lower, wanting so desperately to unfasten the laces on his trousers. When he was told to stand, he let out a pitiful whimper, but did as requested, though his legs shook. If his Alpha hadn't been there, to support him, he would have toppled over with nothing but the breeze to push him. Said breeze made him shudder as it hit his newly exposed cock and arse, cooling the slick that had leaked down his thighs. He nearly fell back into Geralt's lap, straddling the witcher easily, pressing his body as close as he could manage. Desperate blue eyes met the striking gold of the Alpha as he forced himself -by some miracle- to back off enough to get his hands between them, nimble fingers tugging and pulling the laces free on Geralt's trousers. "I might die...if I don't have you inside me...immediately..." Of course that was an exaggeration, but it didn't mean that wasn't /exactly/ how Jaskier felt, and had felt for a very long time.

Geralt let out a dark, rumbling little laugh, holding the other man steady as he worked on what seemed to be the most complicated trouser laces in all of history. Geralt let his hands fall to Jaskier's backside, squeezing and teasing and letting the tips of his fingers wander- and good gods above, was the omega slick. Normally - no, all the time, every time- he bedded someone, he had to be dutiful in making sure they were adequately prepared so as to avoid injury, but now, it was as if Jaskier's body was perfectly prepared even for him. Geralt let two fingers slip into the omega, groaning as they did so almost without resistance; at that moment, Jaskier got him free from his trousers, wrapping a lightly callused hand around him and for a moment, Geralt saw stars. "Fuck, Jaskier..." 

The hands on his skin felt like they were leaving trails of fire in their wake, and oh...did he respond. Jaskier couldn't stop himself from arching into those battle-worn hands, desperate little sounds falling from his lips as his focus was torn between that, and getting the 'godforsaken pain in the arse cock-blocker', as the bard put it, unlaced. Finally, thank the gods, Jaskier was able to get his witcher's pants undone, his hand just about to wrap around the glorious cock in front of him, when two thick, calloused fingers slid into him. The omega nearly screamed, having to press his face into Geralt's neck to muffle the noise as his hips shook, his hole clenching around the invading digits to try and pull them deeper, to milk a release from them that would never come. The shock stayed only for a moment before he thrust himself back, taking both fingers as deep as they could reach, mewling moans burning into Geralt's skin. Somehow, he managed to keep enough of his mind functioning to move his hand, stroking over the alpha's cock, wrist giving a little twist as he reached the head, his thumb sliding across the slit to spread the pre-cum that had gathered there. He would give his soul, neigh, his /voice/, if Geralt would just... "Bloody hell, alpha...fuck me..!" Jaskier sobbed. 

Geralt hummed as Jaskier melted into him, his fingers pressing deeper with the movement. Jaskier's hand around him was almost too much, and he let out a growl as the other worked him over deftly- Geralt pulled his free hand away only for a moment to pull Jaskier's bedroll closer, before laying the bard down as gently as he could manage while they were still thoroughly entangled. Trousers pushed down just enough, the witcher settled into position without further delay and let out a long groan, his cock dragging along the slick that coated the other's thighs. He didn't wait for further pleading before he lined himself up and pressed in, slowly and then with a snap of his hips as Jaskier's body welcomed him eagerly. Geralt's movements shivered to a halt as he bottomed out, engulfed in impossibly slick warmth, nestling into Jaskier's neck and taking him in, beautifully overwhelmed by the scent and feel of him. He gave a teasing, experimental little rock of his hips, drawing himself out only slightly before settling back in, sure that he could be content to stay just as he was and drown in the warmth of the omega around him. It had been very, very, very long since he'd had someone in heat, and his body was desperate for every point of contact, for every squeeze around his cock as Jaskier shifted and writhed. 

The position shift, the heat sparking wherever their skin touched, had Jaskier's head swimming. He was not as careful as his partner when it came to his teeth, letting them nip and bite along Geralt's shoulder to leave little red marks on pale skin. His breath shuddered out as he felt the teasing slide of the witcher's cock against his thigh, and the moan that left him soon after would likely make even the most experienced whore blush. He couldn't stop himself from nearly chanting his Alpha's name, his tone begging, desperate, until finally, he felt the flared head of Geralt's cock sliding into him. Too slow, it was too slow...and then with a snap of hips, Jaskier felt full, stretched to the point of bursting, and it was /glorious/. The Omega let out a sharp cry, his fingernails raking down the sweat-slicked skin of the witcher's back as he arched into that thrust, whimpers and pleads following soon behind. "Alpha...Alpha please, I'll be good for you just...gods, Geralt... /Fuck..!/" Tears trailed from the corners of his eyes as he writhed under the larger man, his hips trying to move in a pace that would satisfy him.

If not for his healing, Geralt was sure he'd be covered in marks the next morning from where clever teeth and blunt nails raked against his skin, perfect points of sharpness against the impossibly smooth glide of their bodies together. One hand worked to hold him up while the other moved along Jaskier's side, brushing along a peaked nipple and down to a hip to hold him still where he bucked and moved beneath him. "Calm down, I'll take care of you," Geralt grumbled, a hint of amusement in the admonishment. Geralt snapped his hips again, pulling out farther this time and rolling himself along Jaskier's body, aware of the other man's cock dragging against his stomach while he did. He seemed to hit the right spot, if the way the omega jolted up and curled around him was any indication, and Geralt was determined to reach that spot again and again. Slowly at first, then moving at a better pace, he thrust and slid so beautifully into the omega, forming a rhythm and finally moving back to capture the other man's lips, flushed and kiss-reddened obscenely. 

Calm down, as if that were even close to being an option. Jaskier wished he had the control to say that very thing out loud, but he couldn't. He did try to muffle his moans against Geralt's skin though, until his head fell back, lightly thudding against the bedroll as his Alpha began to move faster, harder, until the stream of profanity falling from the omega's lips was not much more than a litany of moans and whimpers. Words couldn't describe how he felt, how any of this felt. His body was on fire, and his hole was so slick and wet, his muscles clenching against the absolutely perfect cock that thrust away inside him. Even with the hand moving to still him, he continued trying to move, to meet each movement of his Alpha, wanting to bring more pleasure to the man who meant most to him on the Continent...hell, in the /universe/. His cries were silenced, partially, when Geralt kissed him, adding to his overridden senses and causing him to shudder as he returned the action, teeth biting down on his Alpha's lip when he hit that spot again. "A-alpha..!" His voice wasn't much more than a broken gasp as he felt the familiar coiling of heat low in his belly, his cock now leaking almost as much as his hole. "Geralt...!!" Blue eyes opened wide as it crashed into him, all-consuming ecstasy washing over his body, cold and hot all at once as ropes of cum burst from his cock, painting himself and his Alpha with his release as his mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Normally, Geralt had to be aware-if not cautious- about his strength and how firm he was with his partners; now, Jaskier seemed to welcome the snap of his hips, using his hands and his legs to draw him in further, harder, squirming underneath him to try and up the pace. Geralt was happy to try and satiate the omega, hitting home and pushing in as deep as he was able, all too aware of how Jaskier was tensing and nearing the edge. With a cry and an unreal clench around Geralt's cock, Jaskier was shuddering through his release, holding onto him for dear life as Geralt let his rhythm falter, thrusting in deep as Jaskier's body fluttered around him and- there it was, Geralt tensed and let his teeth meet Jaskier's neck, his release stilling him and washing over him like an avalanche. "Fuck, Jaskier," Geralt breathed, a little brokenly, as he spilled into the omega and the base of his cock swelled, hardly to what it would be if he were in rut and properly knotting but still, so delicious as he gave little half thrusts, still shuddering and holding Jaskier close. He pulled back ever so slightly then, to roll them so that he didn't crush the bard, brushing large hands along the other man's back as he laid back with a contented sigh. 

By some miracle, Jaskier remained coherent through his intense orgasm, shaky moans falling from kiss-bruised lips as his Alpha kept on, faltering and stilling as he, too, found his release. The bard's body shuddered, a hoarse gasp sounding as the knot tied them together, forcing a smaller, less intense wave of release out of his shaking body. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, arms weakly moving to cling to Geralt's sweat-slick body. "G-geralt...I..." He broke off, unsure of what to say. Would it be more harmful than good to tell the truth? Would it just break his heart knowing that Geralt didn't feel the same, even after this? No...for now he'd stay quiet, and simply bask in the relief, the comfortable warmth, and their mingling scents as he curled into the Alpha's chest, nosing at the witcher's neck as he just focused on breathing. 

Geralt hummed, content, the sound rumbling from his chest to Jaskier's where they lay pressed together, both still catching their breath and cooling off, Geralt's cock still trying its damndest to knot out of order with the rest of his cycles. He couldn't complain, honestly, as it kept Jaskier pressed against him for just a few more minutes, sated and shivering still with the force of his orgasm. Despite the confession that Jaskier had let slip at the beginning of all of this, Geralt wasn't sure if this would put the bard off, how eagerly Geralt had insinuated himself when, perhaps, he should have tried harder to hold back or have just slipped Jaskier the potion to help him into unconsciousness. With this, he got the chance to hold Jaskier as he came down from it all, skin still heated but covered in gooseflesh- they were a little too far from the fire to be staying there for long, undressed and covered in cooling sweat (and other bodily fluids). Geralt was quick to wrap his arms around the man laying atop him, hands wandering lazily across skin that bore no (or at least, far fewer) scars than his own. "You okay?" He asked, quietly, a little sigh escaping him as his cock finally flagged, releasing inside Jaskier and beginning to soften. 

Stated for the time being, Jaskier decided to simply enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by the man he -maybe not so secretly- loved. As he lay there, nestled atop Geralt's chest, he let his lips wander, pressing gentle kisses along the Alpha's pectorals, his clavicles, before pressing a final, gentler kiss to the man's adams apple. The bard let his head rest on the witcher's shoulder then, breathing finally evened out, and his entire being soothed by the abnormally slow beating of Geralt's heart. "I am...more than okay... And yet, at the same time, not." Jaskier responded softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I find myself...in love with someone, who I am sure loves another...." Oh yes, grand, this was the perfect time to bring up the witch. Bravo, Jaskier, bravo. He kicked himself mentally, but his mouth wouldn't seem to stop. "But then, if he does love her.... why would he have just helped me through my heat? I mean... Was it just instinct, or am I wrong, and his feelings for me are more than just spurred on by my wanton begging...?" He had to bite his tongue so as not to continue. As it was, he knew he'd already completely ruined the moment. Julian Alfred Pankratz, big-mouth extraordinaire, destroyer of afterglow. Yes, that should really be his title. 

Jaskier settled in against him, littering small kisses across his chest as he did so, leading Geralt to wonder just how much of this was the heat and how much was organic tenderness after a magnificently satisfying fuck. His hand wandered up to stroke through the other man's thoroughly rumpled hair, chest clenching as Jaskier began to share the doubts that were clearly eating at him enough to pass through the haze of his heat and the afterglow of their coupling. Geralt let out a sigh, still running his fingers through soft hair as he readied himself for whatever was going to come out of his mouth. "Hush, Jaskier. Did it seem like anything other than worry for you was stopping me? You're waxing poetic, and not the way I'd expect after all this." Geralt let out a little huff, not without a hint of fondness. "I'm here, now. With you. Because I want to be, not just because of this heat- although you're an idiot for letting it catch you on the road." Love, recognizing it, calling it that, even feeling it, let alone describing or confessing it- was something Geralt didn't think he'd have a handle on for a good few decades to come, but he hoped that he was being clear enough, now. He shifted, reaching for Jaskier's chin to guide him into a kiss that was not without heat, but without the urgency of before, something sweet and luxurious and unhurried. If not with words, he hoped at least with his actions he could help convey what was on his mind. "Stop worrying, and stop monologuing like I'm not here," Geralt breathed against Jaskier's lips, before leaning up to capture them again. 

The bard forced himself to stay quiet, to listen, his head instinctively tilting into the gentle fingers combing through his hair. If he hadn't been so inwardly distressed, he'd enjoy it much more. That said, his distress quieted as he took in Geralt's words, surprise and realization showing on his face as he moved slightly, leaning up to meet the alpha's golden eyes. He was about to speak when he was pulled into the most tender, soul-consuming kiss he'd experienced in his twenty-something years of life, and he returned it easily, drinking in every ounce of affection that was given through the simple action. Finally, when released, he let a genuine smile curl his lips, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light provided by the fire behind them. His body shivered, and he tried to snuggle in even closer to Geralt, though that would be impossible without crawling under the man's skin. "No more monologuing... for now, at least." Jaskier managed to tease before he was kissed again, a soft sound of happiness caught between them as his lips and tongue worked ever so perfectly with Geralt's. 

Geralt would have been content to remain like this, naked with Jaskier perched comfortably on top of him, kissing and losing gods-knew how much time. But, from the shivering of the man above him, Geralt knew they should at least pretend to get dressed against, or at least covered up, before the next wave hit Jaskier (with a good fuck like that, it could be hours, or even the next morning before it hit again). "Shall we get cleaned up, or do you want to stay stuck together and tangled and freeze to death?" Geralt teased, brushing his hands down Jaskier's sides and sitting him up. It was a wonderful sight, with Jaskier perched on his hips and a flush still coloring his skin beneath sprays of dark hair, but that would be for another time. Now, Jaskier might need something more to eat- and they'd both certainly need a drink- and certainly needed more layers. Geralt could have laughed- he knew that Jaskier was more often than not a lively drunk rather than a maudlin one, but he was truly surprised that it had been doubts and insecurities that had overtaken the otherwise cocky, confident bard after they'd worked things out so carnally. "I don't even think you finished eating," Geralt remarked, chuckling darkly and running his hands along Jaskier's thighs. As Jaskier sat up, he could feel his muscles aching, causing him to groan softly. The next feeling, however, was vastly unfamiliar. The sensation of Geralt's release leaking out of his body made him whine softly, the feeling of loss overtaking him for a moment. That was definitely his heat still talking though. “Getting cleaned up would probably be a good idea... though part of me wants to ride you until I'm filled up with your seed again.” He stated as if he were talking about the weather. He made no move to leave Geralt's lap, instead taking the time to stretch his arms over his head, a happy little sigh falling from his kiss-reddened lips. “And you're right. I didn't finish eating. Though now I desperately wish we still had some of those hand pies the dwarfs shared with us the other night...those were positively divine.” the omega stated as he flashed a small smile down at Geralt. He enjoyed, possibly too much, how the man looked there, laying under him. “Gods, it's unfair how ethereally gorgeous you are...” Jaskier crooned as he reached down to brush a few locks of silvery white hair from the witcher's forehead. Geralt let out a snort, turning to place a kiss against Jaskier's palm as the other moved to toy with his hair. "Save me the poetry, bard, or I’ll be tempted to find a better way to keep your mouth occupied.” From the way Jaskier’s eyebrows raised, it was clear he wasn’t necessarily expecting that kind of talk from him, so Geralt followed up with a brusque, “Food, Jaskier, you need food. Between the traveling, your heat, and this,” Geralt’s eyes ran over where they were still very much pressed against one another, naked as anything, “I can’t have you keeling over because you forgot to recharge.” Geralt gave Jaskier’s thighs a fond squeeze, before maneuvering him off to the side gently and getting to his feet. “At least find a warm shirt, you fool,” Geralt teased, walking to the stream with a few cloths. Geralt found that if he just kept himself busy just now, his mind didn’t have time to linger and worry overmuch about what had just happened- he could allow himself, perhaps, to enjoy the moment, and to appreciate this new glimpse of Jaskier, vulnerable and carefree and directing his post-coital compliments to /him/. When he returned, Jaskier was curled up by the fire with a blanket around his shoulders and frankly, as silly as it was, Geralt felt something fond and protective bloom in his chest that perhaps went beyond just his Alpha instincts. It was easy enough to cast a small Igni and warm the wet towel, so at least Jaskier wouldn’t be cleaning more sensitive spots with a freezing cold cloth. It could be said that he was woefully inept at expressing himself -especially now, regarding anything they'd just done-, but Geralt was trying to make an effort to let himself be known in other ways. ~~To Be Continued....?~~


End file.
